Happy Birthday, Goose! I can not believe you are turning 16. Sixteen years…but wasn’t it just yesterday that…
I threw up in the kitchen sink after opening the can of green beans…thus confirming that yes, I was indeed pregnant. Philip was exactly 3 months old at this time. When I got the call from the doc’s office the following day that the test was positive, I cried and cried and cried. A lot.
How was I going to take care of TWO babies? I could barely function taking care of one baby, dealing with postpartum depression, back to work full-time. I was exhausted. My body hadn’t even had time to recuperate from pregnancy and delivery number 1.
Funny thing about God, though. He helps you realize how very much you want something by almost taking it away.
At 24 weeks, while eating at dad’s fave restaurant, I realized my Braxton-Hicks were pretty strong and very regular. Like 7-8 minutes apart regular. A quick drive to Katie & Granddad’s house to drop off Philip, a call to the doc who told us he would leave now and meet us at the hospital immediately and we were off. I wasn’t all that upset at this point. Until we pulled into the emergency room parking lot and saw the doc’s car already there. That scared me. He met us at the elevator and pretty much chewed my butt the entire way to a room (in between barking orders at any and every nurse along the way. Come to find out that long night at the hospital that the nurses hate him, but said I was the luckiest patient there to have him.) That was night one of many visits to the hospital to stop my pre-term labor. Terbutaline became my drug of choice. Drinking tons of fluids day and night was our life. Thankfully, Philip pretty much slept thru the night at four weeks and was just an easy baby. Sonogram after sonogram proved that God was good and you were healthy and growing.
After being put on almost 24/7 bed rest (I could go to work for a couple hours a day, as long as my contractions were under control) and months on meds, I was totally exhausted and at 36 weeks, Doc R told me to stop the meds and let nature takes it’s course. He warned us not to expect you to show up right away as it was quite common to have all of this occur and then the baby not show up for weeks.
Not so you. You had to do it your way. You were born 3 days later.
You were so easy to deliver. Labor was pretty quick (dad still doesn’t understand why with all three of you we had to go to the hospital around 1:00 am. Why can’t you babies get serious about being born during the middle of the day?) The epidural did basically nothing and in fact, contrary to what the anesthesiologist kept saying, they DO fall out! He had never in all of his 30 years of doing this…blah…blah. Low intolerance to pain, my foot! I was 9 cm dilated and in quite a bit of pain. At 10 cm and ready to push the nurse screamed, “DON’T PUSH!!!!!” and ran out of the room. Totally freaked your dad out! There was a whole lot yelling and a few cuss words (dad) (apparently he was concerned he was going to have to deliver you himself.)
Two pushes (I’m so sorry for all of you who pushed for hours and hours, really I am, I just grow em’ small but have “hips that were made for birthin'”) and out you came. All 19 inches, 5 pounds 11 oz of you. We instantly named you “chicken legs”…there wasn’t the tiniest bit of meat on you at all. But you pinked right up and gave out a lusty holler. We got a quick glimpse of your huge blue eyes and off they whisked you to NICU for a thorough check over. They all assured us, though, that you were perfect and would be right back with us, by the look (and sounds) of things. And you were back with us pretty quickly. Pronounced healthy as a horse, if a bit on the thin side. And we took you home right on schedule, two days later. My first thought when walking in the door of our house?
But we managed just fine, didn’t we?
Lover of Jesus
Really Mom’s Girl
Totally God’s Girl
Smart, smart, smart
Rock Hard Abs
Too Good for that Boy (any boy)